Prime minister Lawrence Wong’s shirt at the National Day Rally, held in the modern, air-conditioned ITE Headquarters, was a familiar style to better to give the impression of a meet-the-people walkabout

At the National Day Parade about a week ago, MPs such as Baey Yam Keng (马炎庆, Ma Yanqing) and Xie Yao Quan (谢曜全) came fashionably attired, all 新中式 (xinzhongshi) or neo-Chinois style. Their boss, prime minister, Lawrence Wong Shyun Tsai (黄循财, Huang Xuncai), attended the celebration attired conservatively, to the hilt. Mr Wong kept to the time-honored, venerable red and white theme of the occasion, choosing a conventionally-shaped, short-sleeved shirt in a deeper red that would be more accurate if described as maroon. He wore the shirt untucked (the short slits on each end of the side seams augmented the casualness of the top) over a pair of white trousers that was reminiscent of what he might have worn at his alma mater, TK Tech. He was no doubt prepared for the outdoor proceedings, quite a departure from the male hosts of the show in their layered looks that made one wonder if they were at the receiving end of what the rainbow threw up.

Eight days later, at the National Day Rally Speech, Mr Wong did not close the book on the style he picked for the NDP. When he walked out on stage at the Institute of Technical Education (ITE) auditorium, all saw that, for his shirt, still untucked, he kept to the deeper end of red he had chosen for the parade, but rather than short sleeves, he was in long that ended with barrel cuffs, presumably to stay toasty in case the air-conditioner threatened cryogenic suspension. And instead of the white pants, he donned ebony, possibly to reflect the black in his dark red top. During the nearly one-and-a-half-hour speech, Mr Wong stood behind a lectern, which meant that only his shirt was seen the whole time. The shirt, rising from the top of the stand, covered him, except his face. It was hard not to notice the details: the point collar of a typical business shirt and the intriguing row of contrasting white buttons on the French front (there was no placket), glimmer of possibility that the nation’s flag was remembered.

During the nearly one-and-a-half-hour speech, Mr Wong stood behind a lectern, which meant that only his shirt was seen the whole time

The annual National Day Rally Speech began in 1966, but it was not until 1971 that then-PM Lee Kuan Yew (李光耀, Li Guangyao) decided to televise it, according to The Straits Times, “at the last minute”. ST quoted Mr Lee saying, “We cannot go on doing the things we are doing unless not only you but a lot of other people outside know the raison d’etre, the background, the reasons, the problems…” Mr Wong has not used phrases such as “raison d’etre”, nor worn a tie, as Mr Lee did. Our first PM ditched the neckwear in 1976 for something starkly more casual: a short-sleeved, open-collar shirt and, instead of the PAP-white that he wore since a decade ago, chose baby blue. The seemingly same shirt was worn for the next four NDRs. In fact, red in any shade was not worn at all. It was until the second NDR, which was delivered by Goh Chok Tong (吴作栋, Wu Zuodong) in 1992 that maroon stealthily appeared. Back then, Mr Goh was rather fond of batik shirts.

Even then, the bolder colours worn were somewhat muted. It was not until the NDR of 2004 that our television screens popped with strong solid colours. That year, Lee Hseien Loong (李显龙, Li Xianlong) delivered his first NDR, wearing a long-sleeved shirt in the colour of milk chocolate. In subsequent years, until his last NDR speech in 2023, he wore shirts that did not shy away from striking colours, including vivid blues and greens. But it was the various tones of red that the younger Mr Lee was (and still is) noted for, especially the assorted pinks that he wore at least 11 times, including some memorable salmons. Although his shirts were of conservative silhouettes, they were never chromatically reticent, which perhaps spoke for him as an expressive communicator. Additionally, he didn’t just wear those colours, he owned them, inspiring confidence and stability as he pushed for managing the gains of the past and, concurrently, navigating the more complex world of the present.

In 2004, Lee Hseien Loong delivered his first NDR, wearing a long-sleeved shirt in the colour of milk chocolate. In subsequent years, until his last NDR speech in 2023, he wore shirts that did not shy away from striking colours including vivid blues and greens

The National Day Rally is not merely a speech; it is a meticulously choreographed ritual. And on this occasion, only Mr Wong’s second, the shirt that he donned, which looked uncannily like the one he wore last year, was clearly the de facto star, the major focus for 90 minutes. Yet, as the speech wore on, it appeared that he followed his predecessor’s playbook on color choices, rather than setting a vibrant tone of his own. It was a choice that perfectly mirrored his communication style: pragmatic, sober, without fanfare. Mr Wong is known for his clarity, his ability to break down complex issues like a math teacher explaining a theorem. But we, raised on the bolder sartorial commitments of our first and third prime ministers, were hoping to see some flair. And a delivery that was not just functional, but also captured some of the compelling, emotionally resonant rhetorical choices of the past. His turnout, however, reminded us that his is the era of the technocrat, one who may be unflinchingly honest but is risk-averse, whose style is more about clear exposition than galvanizing the “we first” spirit he encouraged.

Some people argue that it’s not about his looks but the message he delivered. But he was not delivering his message from behind a screen like an old Qing empress dowager. A political leader is not just a disembodied voice delivering a message; they are a physical presence on a stage, and every aspect of that presence—from their posture and gestures to their clothes and facial expressions—is part of the message. The audience is not just hearing them; they are watching them. And there are those who said that he was merely dressing his age. Baey Yam Keng is 54, or two years older than Lawrence Wong. What age could Mr Baey be dressing? When a leader steps onto a stage, he is entering into a kind of “visual contract” with the audience. Their appearance, their energy, and their presence set the tone for the entire speech. We were not hoping for spiffy, but neither were we expecting dowdy.

Screen shot: cna/YouTube